


Getting Better All The Time

by Canon_Is_Relative



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-10
Updated: 2011-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-27 03:49:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canon_Is_Relative/pseuds/Canon_Is_Relative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John takes Lestrade out for a quiet birthday dinner. Neither of them is expecting the surprise that awaits them at home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Better All The Time

**Author's Note:**

> Operates in the [Flirting Over Evidence](http://archiveofourown.org/works/270396/chapters/426742) 'verse, but stands alone.  
> LJ told me it was Basaltgrrl's birthday today, and this demanded to be written. Happy Birthday :)  
> Many thanks to ImpishTubist for invaluable advice and encouragement as always :)  
> Title shamelessly stolen from The Beatles

John's grinning by the time they get to dessert. Normally Lestrade is good at sticking to one drink, sometimes two. Three if they're making a night of it. But tonight, though he'd rolled his eyes and grumbled and told John he was being an idiot, he'd put away everything John had ordered for him and is now humming along and drumming his fingers on John's thigh to Tom Petty on the radio as he licks the last of the chocolate sauce off his spoon.

He looks suddenly at John and John feels his face go red - yes that sound _had_ just been him giggling...

...which is really, _really_ not a problem as soon as Greg is grinning at him and pulling him closer and John's discovering that chocolate plus whisky plus Greg is absolutely the _sexiest_ thing he's ever tasted and Greg's laugh is rumbling in the space between them, his hand on the back of John's neck, his thumb rubbing the spot below John's ear that makes his knees go weak. No, if giggling has this effect on the man he adores, he really has no problem with it at all.

"Love you," Greg says softly as he pulls away, dropping his hand to rest once again on John's thigh.

"Yeah?" John flashes a grin and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small gift-wrapped box. "Good. Because..."

Lestrade groans and tries to push his hand away. "Oh, Johnny, no, you said you wouldn't..."

"And you believed me? More fool you." John kisses him and places the box on the table.

Lestrade groans again and glances around as though worried someone might see them.

John leans across the table to speak softly in his ear. "A week in, you got me off in the back room of a pub. On top of a pool table, if I remember right. At your department's Christmas party, you blew whatever cover we had left on the dance floor--"

"I was drunk! And you were...you know--"

"Very sexy and a surprisingly good dancer?"

"Yes, that. Any cover that was blown was clearly not my fault seeing as _you_ dragged _me_ out there if you'll remember."

"You let me drag you." John smirks and squeezes his knee under the table. "And then you first said you loved me right in front of Sherlock. And after all that, you're embarrassed to be seen with a birthday present? What's that about?"

"I'm not em--oh, fine, give it here." Greg snatches it up and pulls off the wrapping, shoving the bright paper into his pocket. Then he frowns. "What is it?"

"It's a new case for your warrant card. It's practical, you see. I wouldn't embarrass you with something silly." John holds his breath, hoping suddenly that he hasn't miscalculated.

The DI's frown deepens as he pulls out the heavy chain attached to the case. "It's got a padlock on."

John looks at him, deadpan. "Like I said. Practical."

Greg slowly begins to smile, then grin. It's not until he lets out a bark of laughter, head tipping back on his shoulders, that John allows himself to relax and join in.

"You...are..." Greg says finally, wiping his eyes as he shakes his head, gazing at John in something like perplexed affection.

"Amazing?" John supplies, arching an eyebrow. "Extraordinary?"

"Ridiculous," Lestrade says firmly, pulling out his card to slide it into its new case, holding it up to show John. "You know he'll just take this as invitation."

"Mm," John shrugs. "Should've sprung for the electric shock upgrade. Got a remote control and everything, like a dog collar."

" _Ridiculous,_ " Lestrade repeats, standing and pulling on his coat. When John looks surprised at the sudden decision to depart, he leans down and murmurs in his ear, "You're ridiculous, and I'd very much like to take you to bed. Now."

\---

They stumble up the stairs to Lestrade's flat, pulling at coats and scarves and fumbling with buttons. John gets the wind knocked out of him as Greg pushes him against the door, attacking his lips while at the same time working blindly to get the key in the lock behind him. John moans and nearly rips Lestrade's shirt, impatient with the buttons. They're both breathless and laughing by the time the key snicks in the lock and the door swings open and they nearly fall into the room.

The first thing John registers is the smell of food, booze, and candle smoke.

The second is that there are close to a dozen people staring at them.

The third is that Greg very definitely has his hand down his pants.

But all of these observations pale when he realises that it is _Sherlock_ standing in the middle of it all, paper party hat perched atop his wild hair, holding a box of matches poised over the cake and looking...God dammit, where every other face displays some variation on shock or embarrassment, Sherlock looks smug. The arrogant git is _pleased._

And John isn't the only one to notice it. Greg's hand is shaking just a bit as he jabs a finger at Sherlock. "You. There is no way you didn't plan this."

From one side, Sally Donovan gives a snort and mutters, eyes glittering, "Should've known something was dodgy about the way he offered to help. His idea, too, breaking into your flat like this. Freak."

Sherlock has the audacity to look offended. John kicks his brain into gear, really not keen on the idea of Greg's birthday ending in a shouting match. He wraps his arm around Greg's waist and pulls a cheeky grin out from somewhere, looking around at the assembled crowd. "Well...right. Good to see you all, just...ah...give us a minute, yeah? Greg, shall we, ah, go straighten up?"

The crowd parts for them, most avoiding their eyes but a few darting apologetic or bemused glances their way, and then Donovan, of all people, not only meets his eyes but tosses him a smirk and a wink.

John pulls Greg toward the bedroom, passing by Sherlock as they go. John wants nothing so much as to strangle his flatmate, but he settles instead for a cheerful, "Finish up with those candles, eh? We'll be out in a minute."

Not a half step past the detective, Greg is jerked to a halt and John nearly trips over him. They both spin about to see Sherlock, standing stone still and looking completely dumbfounded, Greg's warrant card in the palm of his hand and still securely connected by its chain to Greg's belt.

"Lestrade," he croaks, " _What_ \--"

Lestrade begins to smile as he pulls on the chain. Sherlock lets it slip through his fingers without protest. Lestrade reclaims it, turning to tap the case lightly against John's chest. "Not a bad present, this."

John doesn't fight the swell of affection in his chest, nor the spring in his step as he wraps his hand in the chain and, walking backwards, uses it to pull Greg along to the bedroom, tugging him close just as his shoulders hit the door. Over Greg's shoulder John can see every eye in the room trained on them, and Sherlock's pale face still slack with the shock of being outwitted by John's birthday gift. John grins and murmurs, "You've surprised Sherlock at your own surprise party. M'not sure it gets any better than this."

"Oh, Johnny," Lestrade rested his open palm over John's heart. "It'll only get better from here."


End file.
